All I Want for Christmas is a Pair of Woolen Socks
by DobbyRoxMySox
Summary: Harry: “What do you see when you look in the mirror?” Dumbledore: “I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.” Ever wonder what his reasoning behind that might be? Fluffy one-shot. Christmas may be over, but I just couldn't pass up this idea.


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A/N: Yes, I know that Christmas has come and gone, but I just couldn't let this idea pass by without writting something. It came to me on Christmas day when my mom got a pair of socks for Christmas, and was seriously, (no joke) absolutely extatic about it. What started as a talk between Harry and his mentor kind of turned into something else, but I'm still pretty happy with how this one shot turned out. I know it's long, but trust me, if you've got a case of the holiday blues right now, this fic is sure to put a smile on your face, or your money back guarenteed.

**_Disclaimer: Don't own HP, or the characters, or any of the brilliant locations listed in this fic. I also don't own the italicized portion in the beginning, that's a direct quote from the first book. _**

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_"Sir-Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"_

_"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."_

_"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"_

_"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."_

_Harry stared._

_"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."_

_(Harry Potter and The Sorcerers Stone, pg. 214)_

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Harry Potter trudged up the main staircase of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his brand new Dragon hide boots squeaking insistently on the polished marble surface. He walked slowly, for it had been a long day at work, made even longer by the several hours of fruitless Christmas shopping with his slightly eccentric friend. As much as he loved Hermione, she was an absolute perfectionist when it came to finding just the right Christmas gift. Whether that meant spending an extra half hour at the candy store, debating upon whether Professor Slughorn would rather dried or crystallized pineapple, or personally perusing the entire children's book section at Flourish and Blotts, looking for the most appropriate and educationally enriching book there to give to Teddy Lupin, Hermione was nothing if not persistent. Harry had tried to explain to her, that, as a two year old, Teddy would most likely find the book more beneficial as a chew toy than a riveting read, but that only seemed to make her more insistent on finding the perfect one. In the end, she had finally settled The Tales of Beedle The Bard, a collection of wizarding bedtime stories, which was, she reasoned, the closest they were going to get to anything even remotely realistic or practical.

As for Harry, he had already purchased much of his own gifts, preferring mail order to braving the busy streets of Diagon Alley. He spent most of the shopping trip holding bags for Hermione and scanning the many shop windows and booths, searching wistfully for anything that might do for his gift to Ginny.

Harry was determined that this year, Ginny's Christmas gift was going to be spectacular. It had to be. He loved her more than anything, and he wanted to make sure that she understood exactly how special she was to him. So when Hermione dragged him into a jewelry store, pointing out to him all the popular styles of necklaces and earrings, he just shook his head. No ordinary piece of jewelry would do it. No sweater, or gift certificate, or expensive knick-knack could quite say what he needed it to say either. He needed something different, something exquisite, something that would make her jaw drop, something that just made you stop in your tracks and say- _wow! _

Unfortunately for Harry, when it came to gifts, he had never been the most original shopper. So after hours and hours of shopping, many inquiries, even going so far as to ask Ron, (who incidentally didn't have a clue what to get Hermione and had warned Harry not to outshine him or he'd never live it down) Harry was finally ready to admit that he was beat. Sure, he had faced down dragons and Basilisks, evaded capture by death eaters for weeks on end, and discovered all of Voldemorts horcruxes scattered across the country, but when it came to finding the perfect gift for Ginny among the endless stretch of shops and Christmas booths in Diagon alley, Harry was utterly helpless. He needed help. And fortunately for Harry, just the person for the job had presented himself, piercing blue eyes twinkling merrily, in the famous persons biography section of Flourish and Blotts.

/-o0o-/

"_Felix dies Nativitatis_" Said Harry confidently to the stone gargoyle outside of the Headmaster's office. In light of the holidays, Professor Mcgongall had changed the password to Merry Christmas in Latin.

Instantly, the gargoyle became animated and leapt aside, revealing a slim doorway with a winding marble staircase behind it. Harry strode forward faster now, taking the steps two at a time, eager to speak with his mentor.

When he reached the large oak door, Harry knocked twice with little trepidation. This would not be the first time he'd arrived unannounced in front of Professor Mcgonagall's office, and though in his early days as a student this kind of conduct would have been met with stern disapproval, now every time he showed up she seemed genuinely happy to see him again. Apparently Professor Mcgonagall's usually strict and stoic walls had a few holes in them.

He waited outside the door for a few seconds, before a deep, wizened, decidedly male voice told him to come in. Harry smiled and pushed the heavy door open.

The inside of Professor Mcgonagall's office showed signs of both her, and her previous headmasters existence. While most of Dumbledore's rather interesting possessions were still in place, they were most definitely a good deal cleaner. The dusty sneakscopes in the back shelf were all polished till they gleamed, the sloppy and heavily cobwebbed bookshelves all dusted and alphabetized, the desk orderly, its haphazard contents all lined up with meticulous precision. However, for all Mcgonagall's cleaning and organizing, the now pristine office still held that same curious, charming and utterly captivating vibe it had had on Harry since his very first encounter with the place. Something about the gentle hum and whirring of Dumbledore's- now Mcgonagall's many magical instruments, the peculiar shape of the place, and the bizarre spell books lining the circular walls, it made the office into something like a place out of a story book, surreal, and yet at the same time, distinctly tangible. If that were even possible.

"…Harry?" Late Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore said from his position in a rather large portrait above the desk, startling Harry out of his reverie.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Said Harry excitedly, smiling up at the man in the portrait, "How are you sir?"

"Very well Harry, very well. And there's no need to call me sir. After all, you are no longer my pupil, and I'd say after defeating the most powerful dark wizard of all time… well, lets just say you've earned some bragging rights."

Harry chuckled as he drew up a chair and sat down in front of Dumbledore's portrait. As he took his seat, he was slightly confused to find that he and Dumbledore were the only two in the room. Usually there were at least a few other portraits occupied, but today it seemed as if every previous headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen was missing. "Where did they go?" He asked, unintentionally voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Where did who go, Harry?" Asked Dumbledore.

"The other Headmasters. Where did they go?"

Now it was Dumbledore's turn to chuckle. "Why, it's Christmas eve Harry! Even portraits like to celebrate. Last I heard they were on the third floor landing, drinking through the store of wine in Dionysus's portrait. Dear me, Professor Mcgonigall will not be pleased when they return. Let me tell you Harry, a tipsy headmaster is a loud, stuttering, vexatious headmaster, if I ever did lay eyes on one myself."

Harry laughed and began rummaging around in his bag. "Here sir, I got you something." He drew out of his pack a small, brown-papered parcel. "Hermione gave me a spell that's supposed to merge this with your portrait so you can open it, I haven't tried it yet, but if you'll let me…" Harry trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Oh, you shouldn't have, Harry," twilled Dumbledore modestly, "But if you insist, I should say that I have complete faith in Hermione's spell, and your magical talent, so by all means, give it a go."

Harry smiled again and drew his wand. He touched it to the brown paper bag, and then stood to touch it to Dumbledore's portrait. "_Poena_,_"_ He muttered, as his wand tip made contact with the canvas. Slowly, the brown paper bag began to disappear. First in odd chunks that appeared next to Dumbledore's head, and then altogether, until the parcel fell with a light thud onto the floor of the portrait. Dumbledore bent to retrieve it, disappearing from his portrait for a moment as he scrambled to pick up Harry's present.

When he straightened, he caught Harry's eye for a brief second. At Harry's slight nod, he began to tear apart the brown wrapping paper.

"Socks! Harry, by goodness, how did you know?"

Harry sighed in relief that his gift had gone over well, "I remember you once told me that one could never have too many socks, and I figured since you're well- dead and all- you might prefer a nice pair of woolen socks to say, a book or something."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, "Why certainly Harry, it does get quite cold in this frame sometimes, Proffessor Mcgonagall is a brilliant witch by all accounts, but she lets this office grow frightfully chill from time to time."

Harry grinned. "Glad you like it, sir."

"Thank you very much Harry. I wish I had something to give you as well, but as a portrait, I haven't really gotten the chance to get any Christmas shopping done."

Chuckling, Harry replied, "Don't worry, I didn't expect anything." He took a seat again and looked back up at Dumbledore's portrait, suddenly strangely nervous, "But, there might er- I mean- there might be something I could- ummmm…. use your advice on…."

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat as Dumbeldore's x-ray like vision silently contemplated him, taking in everything from his suddenly flushed face to his clammy hands and averted eyes. Finally, Dumbledore seemed to find what he was searching for, and his face broke into a huge, mirthful, almost mischievous grin, "Why certainly Harry, you can ask me anything you like."

Harry attempted a wan smile. What he was about to ask Dumbledore was not only extremely personal, it was rather embarrassing. After all, here he was, on Christmas Eve, holed up in Mcgonagall's office, about to discuss a possible Christmas gift for his girlfriend with his dead Headmaster. Mentor or no, there seemed, to Harry at least, to be a line you couldn't quite cross when it came to these matters. So Harry decided, for now at least, that he might just twist the story a bit to shift the spotlight off of him some. Not that he thought Dumbledore would buy it, but keeping this conversation hypothetical for a little bit couldn't hurt, now could it?

"Sir…. You see, the thing is… I have this er- friend…. And he wants to get his girlfriend something really special for Christmas this year… The only problem is he doesn't really have a clue what that thing might be."

Dumbledore looked Harry over appraisingly, "Ahh, I see, and did this friend consider getting his girlfriend a nice piece of jewelry or a picture frame perhaps?"

Harry bit his lip, "He did…. But well…. He didn't really think any of those things could er- accurately convey how much he loved her…."

A small half-smile played on Dumbledore's lips. "Umm-hmmm…. Well then Harry, I have a story I'd like to tell you. Would you like to hear it?"

Harry could see no other option, so he silently nodded his head.

"Alright then. Let's get started. You remember that night in first year, the night you discovered the Mirror of Erised, right?"

Again, Harry nodded.

"And you remember what you asked me, after that Harry?"

Harry nodded unconsciously, he knew. He suspected that Dumbledore had not been completely truthful with his answer, but he knew the question.

"And so you'll also remember that I answered your question by telling you I saw myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Another nod.

"And I suspect you know by now that that answer was not completely truthful. I didn't lie to you Harry, but I didn't tell you the complete truth either. Do you understand that?"

"Yes sir." Said Harry, finally breaking out of his stunned silent stupor. He was unsurprised that Dumbledore had lied to him that night, it had been a very personal question, and, come to think of it, if anyone had asked him today what he supposed he would see if he looked once again into the mirror, he didn't think he'd tell them either.

"There was this young couple I once knew," Began Dumbledore, cutting across Harry's musings, "Very nice people, extremely noble, remarkable loyal, exceedingly, sometimes almost excessively brave. And also deeply in love."

Now it was Harry's turn to contemplate Dumbledore in confusion. Just a minute ago they'd been discussing woolen socks and magical mirrors, and now they were talking about this couple he once knew. Harry couldn't quite make the parallel.

"Anyways, it was coming up around Christmas time. This couple had been together for awhile, probably about two years. Finally, about a week before Christmas, the young man came to see me. He told me he was planning on proposing to his girlfriend on Christmas, and asked if I could hold the ring for him till then. As you might expect, I was very pleased that this scattered young man had finally taken some initiative, and I immediately agreed to keep the ring safe."

"A busy week passed. This was during the time that Voldemort was nearly at the pinnacle of his power. Disasters occurred. Tragedy's progressed. I visited quite a few funerals, and I suppose in the midst of all this gloom, I quite forgot the one precious gift I was supposed to be protecting. I may be a genius Harry, but even the brilliant sometimes lose themselves a bit in the midst of death and destruction. So naturally, it was not until the young man returned on Christmas Eve, looking for his ring, that I realized I'd lost it."

"As one might expect, the young man was reasonably distraught. We searched my office up and down, but found no sign of the ring. I offered to buy him a new one, but he was quite adamant that it had to be this one. Turns out the ring was that of his deceased mother, and he very much wanted his future fiancé to wear it. In the end, he was forced to return to his home. I promised to continue looking, but we both had little hope that the ring would be found before Christmas."

"I stayed up all night looking for that ring. I ripped my office apart, and tried all manner of summoning and finding spells, but typically, the ring had an anti-theft enchantment on it, which prevented it from being summoned."

"It wasn't until well past day break that I was finally ready to give up. I quickly scribbled an apologetic note to the young couple and began rummaging around in my drawers for a pair of socks to keep my feet warm on my walk down to the owlery. I selected a nice warm pair of woolen socks, and bent to put my feet in them. On closer inspection, I realized there was some kind of lumpy object wedged inside them. It only took a moment for my slightly addled brains to put two and two together. A few minutes later I found myself apparating to the street the young couple lived on, and running full on towards their house. I must have looked quite a sight, wearing a bright violet bathrobe, flannel orange pj's, barefoot, running down the quite streets of Godric's Hollow brandishing a pair of wool socks. Needless to say, the young couple was quite flabbergast by my appearance. I found them on the couch, in the midst of exchanging gifts. I winked at the young man and threw him the socks. Being a bright man, it didn't take him too long to figure out what was in there, pull the small velvet box out, and get down on one knee."

Harry smiled, "Let me guess, he proposed to her, she said yes, and they were happily married within the year?"

Dumbledore's sapphire eyes glistened, "Something like that. It took her awhile to calm her hysterics over seeing her previous headmaster in flannel pj's, and even longer to get over the surprise of finding an engagement ring inside a sock, but she eventually managed to choke out a yes."

"And after that, sir?"

Dumbledore's mouth twitched into a smile. "Well, I left soon after that Harry, as young couples in the throws of passion ought not be observed."

Harry fidgeted, slightly uncomfortably, "Sir, you said Godric's Hollow."

Dumbledore's smile now lit up his face, "Indeed I did Harry. I suppose I forgot to mention that this young couple was your parents."

Harry bit his lip as he processed this new bit of information. "So when you told me you saw yourself holding a pair of socks… that was really a metaphor for love…?" Harry guessed.

"Oh no, nothing like that Harry," Said Dumbledore benignly, "You see, James never returned that pair of socks to me, and incidentally, I'd grown quite fond of them."

Harry looked at Dumbledore perplexedly. "Then what-"

But Harry was interrupted by a blinding flash of light, and a shrill noise, sounding like a horse's neigh. A second later, the translucent light dimmed, and both Dumbledore and Harry were left staring at a silver horse standing in the middle of the office. The moment of silent awe was broken however, when the horse reared up on its legs, and opened its mouth to speak in a loud, forceful, decidedly Weasleyish tone, "_Harry James Potter! Where are you? Mum's on a rampage, keeps making me and Ron re-clean all the dishes and check the tablecloth for wrinkles. She's absolutely dead set on making this meal perfect, and you're not here yet! The foods going on the table in fifteen minutes, and if you're not sitting there by then, I think mum's going to combust,_ _and I'm going to face an inquiry at work for murdering the boy who was late!" _

And on that final, shrill, rather frightful note, the horse burst into sparks, and disappeared. Harry stared at it, too stunned to move for just a second, before a deep, booming, laugh startled him into action. He swung his head around to see Dumbledore in hysterics. "Harry, dear me…." He managed to choke out between chortles, "The woman has spoken, you'd better get yourself over to the burrow pronto!"

"Yeah… uhhh yeah…. I should go," Said Harry dazedly, he'd been sure that he wasn't supposed to be at the Weasley's until six…. He quickly glanced at his watch, it read six-thirty. _Oops!_

"Goodbye Professor, thanks for your help." Said Harry, getting up and striding towards the door.

"Harry wait." Said Dumbledore quietly.

Instantly, Harry froze. "Yes." He asked, turning around once more.

"I hope, that if nothing else, you take away from that story not only a method of blackmailing me, but also the understanding that sometimes the best gifts are not the ones wrapped in pretty paper under the tree. Sometimes the best gifts come from in here." Here, Dumbledore puffed out his chest and pointed to the spot where his heart would be, were he not two-dimensional. "It sounds corny, but it's the truth. You're over thinking the matter. Ginny doesn't want some elaborate gift you cooked up in your head, she wants something from your heart. Just follow that, and I think you'll be ok."

Harry turned to go, before something suddenly struck him, "Sir, how did you-"

Dumbledore chuckled, "Harry, I may be a portrait, but I'm not dense. Word gets around. Ginny is a very lucky young woman. Now run along, go enjoy Molly's feast."

Harry just nodded dumbly and turned again to go. "Oh, and Harry…"

Sighing, Harry turned a second time, "Sir?"

"If you ever need an extra pair of socks, third drawer in the vanishing trunk in the back. Minerva doesn't know its there yet, but if you tap the second book on the fourth shelf it should appear for you."

Harry smiled, "Thanks sir, but I think I'm all set there."

And with a final wave and a knowing wink from Dumbledore, Harry finally took his leave.

/-o0o-/

On Christmas Day, Harry awoke before the sun had risen. He slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Ginny, and pulled on a warm winter cloak. He then swiftly padded down the hall, keeping his footsteps light and silent so as not to cause a floorboard to squeak, and awake any of the rather bad-tempered portraits. It wouldn't do to have Sirius's mom awake now and spoil all of Harry's last minute planning.

Harry made a quick trip to Gringott's, thanking the stars that Goblins didn't celebrate Christmas, and managed to slip back inside Number 12 Grimmauld Place by six o'clock. Luckily, Ginny had never been an early riser. He still had a few hours to find what he needed and get back into bed like he hadn't just retrieved Ginny's present on Christmas morning. Which, of course, is exactly what he did.

/-o0o-/

Ten o'clock on Christmas morning found Harry and Ginny on the couch of their newly remodeled living room, opening Christmas presents from their various friends and family.

Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself as usual. Sending both Harry and Ginny an assortment of pies and her famous home-knitted sweaters. Hagrid sent them both some of his home-baked rock cakes, and Hermione, what looked like a miniature library, consisting of books about rare magical herbs and fungi, to Dumbledore's legacy, to her personal favorite, _Howarts, A History_. Ron had sent Harry a small silver gadget, which he claimed was a GPS his dad had remodeled to work on his broomstick. Ginny had gotten a device similar to Harry's by her dad, but both were slightly skeptical about their actually working.

However, the gift Harry was most anxious about opening wasn't addressed to him. It was a small, hastily wrapped, lumpy package stuffed somewhere under the Christmas tree with the rest of the throng. With every gift Ginny pulled out from under the tree, Harry's heart quickened, wondering anxiously if this time she would finally pull out his.

At last, when there were only a few gifts remaining, Ginny bent under the tree and retrieved Harry's gift. "To Ginny, the Love of My Life, From Harry," She read. "Awww, that's sweet."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, it wasn't very original, but Harry had been kind of pressed for time. He was more interested in her reaction to the actual present than the tag anyways. And right about now, he was so nervous, he felt a shrug was the best he could manage.

Ginny, being a perceptive person, noticed Harry's uneasiness. Obviously he was nervous about how his gift was going to go over with her. His squirming was kind of cute, but Ginny decided it was probably best to open it quickly and put him out of his misery. Whatever it was, she decided, she would make sure to give him a reasonably positive reaction.

Ginny quickly tore off the unskillfully wrapped paper, and picked up a small clump of colorful fabric. Peering at it closely, she noticed with a certain amount of confusion, that what she was holding was a lumpy wad of socks. And even stranger, they didn't match- one was red with a broomstick print on it, the other was green, with a pattern of golden snitches. "Wow… Harry these are…" She began, at a loss of what to say at such a bizarre gift.

"Well, what are you waiting for, why don't you try them on?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice cheerful and light to somewhat squelch his racing heartbeat and anxious nerves.

"Er- ok." Said Ginny, still utterly perplexed, as she bent down to slip her feet into the oddly decorated socks.

She pulled the first one out of the ball and put her foot into it. It was a little too big for her foot and rather scratchy, but Ginny didn't think this was quite the time to be brutally honest. "They're comfy," She told Harry, "Fit like a charm."

"Put the other one on." Said Harry, now barely suppressing a shy smile. Yes, he was nauseous to the point where he felt like a three-ring-circus must have taken up residence in his stomach, yes, he was ten times more nervous than he'd felt when he'd been waiting to face the Hungarian Horntail, and yes, he was terrified at the prospect that her answer would be no. But yet, at the same time, Harry couldn't help but notice how hard she was trying to look absolutely thrilled at the prospect of receiving a pair of mismatched, lumpy old socks from her boyfriend this Christmas. If she was willing to do all that just to spare his feelings, perhaps she'd be willing to spend the rest of her life with him as well.

"Harry, erm… I think there's something inside this one." Said Ginny, trying to slide her foot into the second sock, but only managing to make it about halfway.

"Hmmm… I wonder what it is…" Said Harry, in his best attempt at a mysterious sounding voice.

Ginny laughed, elbowed him lightly in the ribs, and then pulled a small velvet box out of the sock.

She went to open the clasp, but Harry snatched the box away from her. Socks or no, he was determined to do this the old fashioned way. Slowly, he knelt on one knee, opened the box, and held the now exposed diamond ring out to Ginny.

At first, her face was flushed with surprise. She just stared at the ring for a few seconds, the color slowly creeping back into her cheeks. Harry waited, watching her with bated breath as her eyes darted covertly from the box in Harry's hands, to the sock lying abandoned on the ground, to Harry, and then repeated the cycle, trying to make some sense of this rather baffling situation.

Eventually though, she had to say something. After all, your boyfriend doesn't get you a diamond ring, kneel on one knee and hold it out to you so you can just stare at it. She opened her mouth to say something to Harry, anything to accurately convey how absolutely amazing she felt right now, but just as she was about to speak, she caught sight of the silly sock she was wearing on her left foot, and she promptly started to crack up.

Harry watched on bemusedly as his girlfriend broke out into hysterics. She laughed and laughed, her diaphragm vibrating so much she was even rocking the couch. He let her go for awhile, until finally his kneecap began to feel sore from kneeling so long, and he was starting to seriously fear for the welfare of his girlfriend.

Harry stood up slowly and took a step towards the couch, "Ginny, dear…" he began, gently patting her shoulder to gain her attention.

She looked up at Harry, and choked back a fresh wave of giggles, "Ha-Harry, oh, I'm so sorry… It's just…. A sock…? I mean, what were you thinking?!"

Harry smiled genuinely at her words. Ginny was truly adorable when she was bewildered like this. "It's a long story Gin. Don't worry about it, if I were you, I think I'd be pretty disoriented right about now too. But now that you're back with us, there's something I need to ask you."

"Harry, of course I'll-" Began Ginny, but Harry shushed her by holding up a finger.

He then proceeded to sit down on the couch, turning his body so he was facing her, and grasp both her hands securely, like he was about to plunge headlong into a fierce storm, and her hands were his only lifeline.

He looked into Ginny's bright, chocolate brown eyes, and took on last breath, finally finding the solace in those vivid brown orbs to say what he needed to say. "Ginny, I know this is probably going to sound corny, but just hear me out. Ok?"

She nodded.

"Ever since fifth year, you've been beside me, backing me up and lending a hand whenever I needed one. Like when you helped me break into Umbridge's office to talk to Sirius, when you stood beside me in the fight at the ministry, and when you defended the castle from death eaters, time and time again. You're one of the bravest, humblest, kindest, most wonderful persons I know, not to mention beautiful, and for awhile now, I've known that the thing I want most in this world, is to be the one to stand beside you for the rest of my life. I love you Ginny. Maybe more than you'll ever know. So please, Ginevra Molly Weasley, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

Ginny wasn't one to cry. She'd endured countless torments as the youngest of six elder brothers, and by the age of six she had long since ceased to let her emotions bubble over to the verge of tears. However, as Ginny sat there now, and watched as Harry slowly lifted the ring out of the box, saying those beautiful words to her like she was the only one in the world to him, she could feel her eyes welling up. Finally, after countless struggles and battles against death eaters, after the death of her brother and other loved ones, after seeing Harry's lifeless body, just a few short years previous, lying at the feet of the most powerful dark wizard of all time, finally, she and Harry were sitting here, alive, unscaved, and unafraid. Finally, they were together at last, and Harry wanted it to be forever. Finally, things were as they should be. So, with only a moment's hesitation to collect herself, Ginny replied, "Yes Harry. Yes, of course I'll marry you."

As she said those words, Harry smiled. His first genuine, euphoric, maybe even a little triumphant smile of the day. Slowly, he slipped the ring onto Ginny's finger. It was a small diamond engagement ring, Harry had retrieved it from Gringotts only this morning. He had known for some time it had belonged to his mother, and only yesterday found out the previous owner had been his father's mother, his grandmother.

The gold and diamond ring fit brilliantly on her slender finger, almost as if, somehow, it had known it would someday be there all along. "Oh, Harry, it's beautiful…" Marveled Ginny.

Then she leaned over towards him, and slowly, raised her now ringed hand to caress his face. Harry gulped as a wave of emotion rippled through his body. What he felt right now, such euphoria, such joy, such peace and contentment, could never be summed up in a single sentence, and yet, the look on Ginny's face right then, and the beautiful diamond ring, gleaming in the early sunlight, that said it all. Slowly, Harry leaned in, just as Ginny did the same, and their lips met in the middle for one of the most wonderful, emotional, gut-wrenching kisses of either's life.

When they finally came up for air a few moments later, Ginny was the first to speak, "Oh, and Harry…"

"Ummm hmmm," Said Harry, still staring avidly at the ring on her fourth finger, hardly daring to believe his luck.

"Don't ever call me Ginevra again."

"And what if I do?" He asked cheekily.

"Then by the time I'm thru with you, the only socks you'll be getting for Christmas are those cheap slippers they hand out at St. Mungo's." She said, bopping him playfully with her left hand.

Harry laughed. "Sure thing Gin, sure thing." And on that final note, he could no longer contain himself. Wrapping his arms around his fiancé's slender frame, he hoisted her up onto his lap, and enveloped her in yet another wondrous, heartfelt, blissful kiss.

/-o0o-/

A silver bearded man looked on the scene from a rather thick novel about himself, lying discarded on the floor. His piercing sapphire eyes glittered with mirth as he took in everything from Lily's old engagement ring, the young couple, now wrapped upon each other on the couch, to the single green sock with the snitch print, still fit loosely around Ginny's left foot. With one final sweeping glance at the rather chaotic scene before him, Albus Dumbledore chuckled and left the frame. He had just witnessed what he hoped would be the first of many joyous Christmases for the young Potter family.

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A/N: Yeah, I know, the ending falls a little flat. I have a problem with wrapping up fics. Hopefully you enjoyed my little holiday treat to you guys. If you didn't, sorry I wasted your time. If you did, I'm glad you liked it. Either way, leave me a reveiw and let me know what you think.

**_Merry belated Christmas and Happy New Year;) _**

**_-DobbyRoxMySox_**


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